


Too Fluffy

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Fluffy, Preventing Biley, The I in Team, Wrong can be made right, not destiny, not vanilla, present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: A little Spuffy birthday fic wedged in the middle of “The I in Team.” Spike decides to buy Buffy a birthday gift. Written especially for yellowb! Happy birthday!Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.





	Too Fluffy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowb/gifts).



As soon as Giles left the crypt, Spike stared at the cash in his hands. He hadn’t finished counting it because of what the Watcher had been saying. Yeah, Spike had pretended not to care about the words coming out of the human’s mouth about higher purposes and Spike being able to kill demons. 

 

Spike didn’t like what the man was saying – not one bit. 

 

But Spike had been under the Watcher’s roof long enough to know that the man meant what he said. There was honor in that. That coupled with the fact that he’d fed Spike and watched the telly with him and shared his liquor and his delectable snacks from the homeland made Spike soften toward him though he’d never in a million years admit it. 

 

And when they’d teamed up to sort out how to solve the Watcher’s unfortunate encounter with an ex-chum who’d turned him into a Fyarl demon as ex-chums were wont to do, Spike had actually felt like maybe he could carve out a little niche. Their little adventure had been kind of. . . fun.

 

Spike began to pace in the cobweb-ridden crypt he’d found. 

 

There was dust everywhere, creepy crawlies who didn’t mind crawling over him while he slept, and mud in the corners and crevices from the damp. The skeletons he didn’t mind; Dru had had a penchant for keeping one or two around for tea parties with her dollies over the years. He’d learned to overlook them though he had managed to make her stow them far enough away that he didn’t have to smell them until the bones were clear of flesh. 

 

Still. Reminders of the past were not as fresh as memories of what demon girl had mentioned when he’d been moving out of Xander’s basement. 

 

There was no hot running water, no refrigerator with blood, no telly, no luxuries of any sort. And Spike had never been one to live in completely inhumane conditions for very long. He was a survivor, and truth be told, he enjoyed a spot of luxury.

 

Being in the crypt was far from luxurious, and being in the crypt meant that he wouldn’t see the Slayer anymore. Not unless he sought her out as she roamed the cemeteries. 

 

Spike didn’t like to admit it, but he fancied seeing the Slayer in her relaxed state, lounging on the Watcher’s sofa, bantering with her idiot friends, and best of all goading him when he was chained up or ineffectively tied with bits of rope.

 

Then, if he went further back in his mind and heart, he remembered being in love with the Slayer when the bitty witch had cast her spell. God, he’d loved Buffy. . . the scent of her, the way she’d touched him that left him aching when she was gone, the softness of her curls twining around his fingers, and the way she’d kissed him with such wild abandon and heat. 

 

After the spell had ended, he’d pretended to be disgusted by her, but in reality, he’d kept the kiss going a little longer than the spell extended, and he thought she had to. But she’d avoided him like he was the one with syphilis since then. No tying him up or lingering pats on his arm or teasing him with her carotid. 

 

She’d shaken Spike off, but he couldn’t seem to shake her. And now, she was taking up with one of the sodding commandos. . . the tall oafish one with the floppy hair. Spike knew in his heart that it bloody well wasn’t right.

 

Mid-pace, he stopped and slammed his fist on the top of the concrete slab housing one of the crypt occupants. Pain shot up his arm to his shoulder, and he dropped half the stash of money to the dirt.

 

“Bloody hell!” 

 

As he clumsily stumbled around through the haze of pain to snatch up the bills, he made an executive decision. 

 

He was going after the Slayer, and he was going to risk it all.

 

Spike charged toward the crypt door and flung it open, only to be greeted by Mr. Sunshine. Fuck! He forgot it was daylight. Stupid sod that he was; he seemed to have forgotten he was a vampire. Before he could work up a good sizzle, he threw the barrier closed and slid to the floor, kicking up dust with his boots. 

 

He’d wait until nightfall and then he’d find her.

 

* * *

 

Buffy was excited. Excited to see Riley, learn more about the Initiative, and hang out with her friends at the Bronze. After her birthday and almost losing Giles, Buffy was eager for a little downtime.

 

Most of all, she couldn’t wait to see how Riley fit in with her friends; they hadn’t really all had a chance to hang out. Plus, Willow said she might bring someone, and Buffy had to admit that she was really curious. With a little bounce in her step, she hurried toward Lowell House to meet up with Riley and his friends. 

 

As usual, she kept her Slayer senses alert to her surroundings, noting any students wandering by and making sure there were no demons or vamps stalking them. She was kinda hoping to run into at least one vamp to get her blood flowing, but she didn’t run across a single living or undead creature except for a stray cat. 

 

Until she heard a rustling noise to her left. She pulled the handy compact stake from her purse, her blood pumping in her ears in excitement. 

 

The producer of said rustling sound popped out of the shadows, and when Buffy saw who it was, she sighed and lowered her stake.

 

“Spike. What are you doing here?” She refused to let the bleached blonde vampire mess with her plans. And she had plans. Damn it! Still, somehow her words came out way less irritated than she expected. 

 

“Oh, um. I was looking for you.” His tone wasn’t what she expected either. Did he sound uncertain? She’d heard that a lot from the vampire of late, but this time, it was without the usual mocking edge. In fact, there was something akin to vulnerability in his eyes – those blue, blue eyes. 

 

“Y-you were?” She crossed her arms to hide her own thrown-off-ed-ness. “Why?”

 

Spike glanced to one side – almost like he wasn’t sure what he was doing there either, and the way he was holding one arm sort of behind his back and lingering in the shadows heightened Buffy’s suspicion. Spike was anything but subtle.

 

She grabbed him by the front of his leather coat and pulled him forward into the low campus light. “What’re you hiding?” 

 

Spike hardly protested, and when she tugged his arm around in full view, she stopped short in surprise. He was holding a small, neatly wrapped package tied with a beautiful ribbon. “It’s for you.” 

 

Buffy dropped his arm like a hot potato. “Why?” 

 

“Rupert told me it was your birthday day before yesterday.” He offered the present more formally this time. “And don’t worry your pretty little head, but I paid for it with my own hard earned money. Well, money your Watcher gave me for helping him out yesterday when he was all Fyarl and grrr.”

 

Her mortal enemy was presenting her with a birthday present? Like a boy would give a girl he had a crush on or was dating. Even Riley hadn’t given her a birthday gift. Buffy dumbly repeated, “Why?”

 

Spike jiggled the present with impatience. “Just take the bloody thing.”

 

Accepting the package with all the delicateness of a bomb-defusing expert, Buffy wrinkled her nose. “It’s not going to be some Slayer-killing surprise, is it?”

 

Spike sighed. “Like what?”

 

“I don’t know. Poison?” 

 

“No,” Spike said in all seriousness. “You should know better than that!” 

 

Buffy frowned. “What does that mean?” 

 

“Well, I bloody well wouldn’t kill you with poison if I was gonna kill you. I can’t do much of anything on account of the chip lodged in my brain, but if I didn’t have it, it’d be a fight to the death.” He scoffed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his duster. “Not poison.”

 

Buffy barely caught hold of the giggle that threatened to slip out of her mouth. “Like that’s worked out so well for you.” 

 

She must not have covered her amusement too well because Spike got defensive. “What?”

 

“The fight to the death thing. You and me. It hasn’t worked out so well.” She almost couldn’t believe she was admitting the next part and making it a ‘we’ thing and not a Spike thing. “We always seem to not take the opportunity to kill each other.”

 

Buffy suddenly noticed that Spike was looking her up and down but in a less leering and more appreciative way than normal. “Well, even if I could hit you, I wouldn’t fight you in that get-up.”

 

She was brought back to her dorm room and when Spike was holding up her skirt – a skirt that was a very similar color to the top she was wearing now. She touched her blouse self-consciously. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” 

 

Spike tilted his head as if genuinely considering her question. Before she could dodge him, his hands were around her neck – his cool fingers brushing her bare skin so that she shivered and her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t been able to get enough of his touch when they’d been under Willow’s spell, and now here he was being gentle with her again – not choking her but undoing the clasp of her fuzzy brown necklace. 

 

Spike stepped back to survey her again. “There.”

 

“What’s wrong with my necklace?” Buffy asked softly, wishing for him to touch her again. She’d considered what his hands might do to her on their wedding night, and she had been certain it would be mind-blowing. 

 

Spike continued his once-over of her even as he answered her question. “Too fluffy.” Then, he reached up and swiftly and easily undid the up-do she’d spent what felt like forever perfecting to go with her outfit. It was a style that said she was easy-breezy and fun. His fingertips massaged her scalp, lingering just a bit on the strands of her hair as the strands spilled around her shoulders. “Much better.”

 

With her free hand, Buffy touched the ends of her hair. “What’s wrong with – ”

 

Spike let out a low growl then and his lips were suddenly millimeters from hers. His bright blue eyes were now dark with desire. “What’s wrong is how you make me feel. Ever since that sodding spell.” 

 

His lips crashed into hers, and she let them, eagerly drinking in how they felt against hers. All soft and cool and firm and directive. She relished the strength behind his passion, and she loved that she could meet it with equal ardor. It was then that she knew that she was lost for any others, and she didn’t want him to stop the glide of his lips over hers or the dip of his tongue into her mouth. 

 

He broke away just as she was finding her rhythm with him, and he touched his forehead to hers. “Giles said maybe I have a destiny since I can fight demons. Don’t believe in destiny. Not anymore.” 

 

Buffy was confused by what he was saying and started to draw away, but he cupped her elbows and kept her close. She allowed it because she wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

 

“But what I do believe in is my gut, and as much as I hate to bloody well admit it, my gut is telling me that this thing between us? The thing that’s wrong? It’s something that can be made right. For us both.” Spike drew a deep breath and took a step back as if realizing his place in the Slayer-vampire relationship. 

 

Buffy swayed a little. She wasn’t under a vampire thrall, but she might as well be. “W-what’re you saying?”

 

“I’m saying. . . don’t give your heart to that vanilla farm boy. You deserve more.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said all that. 

 

“And you can give me more?” Buffy wasn’t being sarcastic. 

 

“Yeah.” Spike shuffled one foot. “Yeah, I can.”

 

Buffy’s heart pounded in her chest at what she was actually considering doing. “And this isn’t just a ploy to have hot running water again?”

 

Spike’s eyes widened. “Anya told you about that?”

 

She shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah.”

 

“Well. No. She’s wrong.”

 

Buffy discovered that if she didn’t overthink, her body did what her own instincts told her to do, and before she knew it, her hand wrapped around Spike’s arm. “How do I know that?”

 

Spike tucked her hand close, and they began walking back toward her dorm. “You don’t. You have to have a little faith.”

 

“Faith?” This time, Buffy snorted. “In a vampire?”

 

Spike arched an eyebrow at her. “You’ve done it before.” 

 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about Angel,” Buffy mused.

 

“I don’t. Never bring him up again.” 

 

“Fine. Same goes for Dru.”

 

“Good. Done. Aren’t you going to open your present?”

 

“You sure it’s not poison?”

 

The end. 

2-14-19, 11:32 PM

**Author's Note:**

> Have you seen that necklace on Buffy when she’s meeting Riley to go to the Bronze? It’s so fluffy! Lol


End file.
